


A Table for Three

by Buntheridon



Series: Tripping on Azerite [5]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alcohol, Arcane Spell as Contraceptive, Blowjobs, Dubious Respect for the Elite, F/M, Invisibility, Mage Player, Mentioned Threesome, Oral Sex, POV Second Person, Polyamory, Public Sex, Smut, The Alliance, There Are No Zippers in my Azeroth, tables, you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 19:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18453200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buntheridon/pseuds/Buntheridon
Summary: Fifth story concerning you, Flynn and Shaw. Parties aren’t for everyone except if you make your own entertainment in them. After Dazar’alor, before 8.1.5





	A Table for Three

**Author's Note:**

> I’m stuck with my longer fics so here’s an easygoing smut in the meantime. Sorry, _you_ still haven’t really managed to repeat the threesome; Shaw is a difficult one to tame. The mentioned dress is _Robes of The Guardian Saint_ from AQ40.

 

The battle in the Zandalari troll capital Dazar’alor had landed you in the infirmary for a few days. Today you are getting released as fully healed just in time to be able to attend this “little celebration” as they call it in the invitation. You couldn’t care less about parading around gilded rooms with a pink drink in your hand, yet you are obligated with an unspoken rule to participate - after all you were one of the heroes fighting there and the party is for your honor as well as the Lord Admiral Jaina Proudmoore’s and other leaders’ and dignitaries’.

Even after resting for these two days you still feel the after effects of the battle - and you’d still rather go and continue fighting for the Alliance instead of ‘celebrating’. The war’s not over yet.

The way _you_ would celebrate the dubious victory, if you could choose, would include two rogues and a bottle of dark rum.

Two very specific and hot rogues with red moustaches and totally different styles and personalities to them. But you haven’t heard of Shaw or Flynn - funny how you refer the other with his last name and the easygoing one with his given name. Very telling in regard to your relationship with the both of them.

In the afternoon before the cursed ball you go through your travelling trunk to find anything suitably ceremonial or festive to wear. The Lord Admiral’s mother will be there too, and some of the stuffy nobles, and probably the cute young High King will pop in for the minimum time that’s expected of him. You share an empathetic thought to Varian’s son - he probably does not care for formal parties either.

A sly thought creeps to your head. It doesn’t specify in the invitation what kind of dress you should wear. There’s this one lovely piece you found ages ago deep in the Qiraji temple while fighting the old gods’ minions for the first time. You haven’t worn it in a while... and elves get away with almost any showing of skin due to your allure and assumed old age. If someone feels offended then all the more excuse for you to slip out of there early.

You assume Shaw and Flynn will be there as well, they are expected to because of their rank. And since the master assassin already calls you an exhibitionist… then let him have an eyeful of it. The dress is a long light turquoise colored wonder, the fabric a magical, almost see-through runecloth, embroidered with golden thread. What possibly makes it even more obscene in the human eyes, in addition to the fact that anyone can guess the shade of your nipples while you wear it, is that the wide slits reveal the sides of your thighs completely and the upper part is practically a glorified bikini top with a deep cleavage.

The dull party is actually starting to sound entertaining. You know your two intimate friends have been busy with the war and the aftermath - as you would have been had you not been injured - but you can pretend to be upset about them not visiting you. An excuse to do something daring to them.

When evening comes you walk in your lovely flimsy dress to the harbor and take a route gryphon to Proudmoore Keep. Heads turn when you go past people. You even did your hair - there’s a bunch of spells for it, you wouldn’t bother otherwise - and it flows free, light blue and has small braids and flowers in it.

You land near the huge stone steps that lead up to the Keep. Following festive signs and the crowd you find out that it’s an outdoor reception on the Academy yard. _Phew,_ easier to flee than from any room. The dark starry sky is cloudless and the colorful festival lanterns make the place look magical. Lots of humans, elves, dwarves, Gilneans mingling and looking relaxed, awkward or tipsy. Oh, you need to find the punch bowl.

Smiling politely to people and gnomes you pass on your way to the quest goal you feel a tingling sensation on the back of your neck. Someone here is interested in you. Calmly you scoop the pink liquid - how is it always pink? - in the biggest cup you find on the table, down the whole of it and fill it again. _Now_ you’re ready to face ‘em.

Ten feet from the booze, leaning on a support pillar of one of the stone archways on the surrounding wall is captain Flynn Fairwind. You discipline your smile so the whole yard wouldn’t notice how utterly aroused you are to see his jolly face. He seems fine, no new scars or anything. He’s accompanied by the charming young Taelia Fordragon and you nod to them. They are wearing very fine suits both - Tae isn’t one for robes and the black jacket suits her well. And damn if the captain doesn’t look just dashing in his white tuxedo shirt. You do not look lower. _Nope, no, don’t._

_Later._

What you didn’t expect is for them _both_ to stare at you like they just forgot to breathe. Flynn looks at you with raw want in his glinting eyes, an apologetic flirty smile pulling at his lips. The dark-haired girl’s admiration isn’t much less obvious. _Oh._

The seducing voice of the leader of the SI:7 whispers almost by your ear. You jump, startled.

_“I feel I should arrest you for wearing that gown. It probably breaks one code or another, can’t remember which one though.”_

Shaw - Mathias Shaw - is dressed in an entire tuxedo set, dark jacket, white button-up shirt, black bow tie and all. He seems a bit out of place in it but damn it if you don’t want to rip it off him right now. And not because it offends your eye.

You let the blush rise to your cheeks and you lower your gaze, shamelessly playing to his assumed preferences by pretending to have a sense of shame. You don’t have much in the way of those but you don’t mind a little roleplay at all.

_“Should I take it off then, officer?”_

Under your eyelashes you notice how terribly well his suit pants hug his tight ass and strong thighs. You hear him laugh low under his breath while he fills his punch glass and pretends to take a sip.

_“As expected of our famous flasher.”_

“Shaw. Behave.”

“I always do.” His deep baritone voice caresses your ears and his darkened green eyes follow the curve of your hips. You almost feel his gaze on your skin.

“Would you be interested in a game of betting? These parties bore me to death and it isn’t even time for the speeches yet.”

“If it’s within the limits of law and good order.”

“Not promising anything. Although, truthfully, I’m not very familiar with some parts of the law here. For example, would I get incarcerated for public… indecency?”

“You truly are bored if your mind comes up with ideas like that. What sort of _act_ did you have in mind, hero?” You almost giggle at him sounding as terse and commanding as when he is leading quests in Arathi. You _love it._

“Well... orally pleasuring someone, for example.” Your tongue dances on the sugared rim of the glass you’re holding near your lips.

“You’d get a fine and I’d shoo you out of sight, is what would happen.”

“You?”

“I’m on duty right now, though dolled up. I also have this place surrounded by my stealthed agents.” Oh, he must have volunteered fiercely to get out of that table.

Shaw lowers his voice, face a perfect mask of politeness for the onlookers when he leans a bit closer, making you shiver. _“Were you planning on seducing someone particular?”_

 _Yes, you,_ is what you think. You only grin and sip your drink, an innocent look in your shining eyes. The High King, the Lord Admiral along with her mother and her brother, as well as some of the other Alliance leaders arrive. People start to find their seats - the officers and nobles have places in the long Proudmoore table, rest of the guests are seated behind them or standing around it. You see Flynn move with the crowd, flashing a grin at the two of you - his buddies with benefits. He sits at the end of the table, first seat from your point of view.

“Is this your post, here?” You ask the spymaster, nonchalantly. He’s leaning on the wall that’s surrounding half of the circular Academy yard. You take a look at the lines of tables that are laden with flowers, delicacies, bottles and a long white tablecloth that reaches the ground. Why yes, what you have in mind is actually a doable prank, especially since the tablecloth does not cover the table ends - which looks kind of faux pas now that you think about it.

“Yes, I thought I’d see everyone well enough from this vantage point. Why?”

Oh, that’s perfect. He’ll see everything. An anticipating titillation fills you as you sketch the mischievous plan in your head.

The first speech on the podium in front of the gathered personages seems to be starting, an official report about the battle, statistics and the lot. You see captain Fairwind glance at you and wink in a conspiratorial way. _See you after suffering this,_ his face seems to tell you. Well, you have something even better and/or worse in mind. You smile back at him, thinking about the lovely torture you’ll soon be putting him through. Sweeping the surroundings with a last glance, your battle-honed skills telling you no-one besides your part-time lovers is looking at you, you take a step back and give your empty glass to master Shaw.

“I _bet_ that by the end of this party _you_ will be deserving of a penalty. And I further bet that you won’t dare to stop me.”

You slip into Invisibility and, once it’s fully hiding you, walk briskly towards Flynn. You hear Shaw’s stifled grunt behind you - you know the most skilled rogues can see through all kinds of hiding spells. You have twenty seconds before your magic wears off but that’s plenty for crouching and slipping under the table in front of Flynn’s unsuspecting manly spread legs. You’re fully hidden from anyone except the spymaster ten feet to your left and possibly one or two of his stealthed assassins behind him.

You pull the delicate hem of your dress up so it won’t get dirty or torn touching against the ground. Dropping to your bare knees you place yourself firmly so you wouldn’t accidentally sway and stir the white fabric behind you and alarm anyone to inspect the disturbance.

The Invisibility dissipates and you look at Shaw with defiance in your grin. His mouth opens and he almost takes a step, then reconsiders the situation. The dull albeit important speech continues, the night is peaceful, soon there’ll be the raising of glasses. Would he want to reveal an insignificant scandal in the middle of that harmony?

 _This is for the both of you,_ you muse and slide your hands on the ex-smuggler’s thighs covered in uncharacteristically neat and unblemished suit pants. He jolts a bit but his rogue skills - or the punch you are certain he’s already imbibed - keep it slight. You rub and massage his strong muscles towards his crotch and then without much ceremony slip your hands to pull open the laces holding the fly of his pants. You hear him grunt and then whisper something to someone, it sounds like an improvised excuse or explanation for his jumpiness. Is it Taelia? The legs beside him look like hers.

Flynn’s hand snakes under the tablecloth that’s on his lap and following your arm he finds your shoulder. Slowly the fingers trace the embroidery of your décolleté, then move up to your chin, cheek, earlobe and stop there. He has now verified it’s you. You hear a nervous chuckle and his hand retreats.

When you pull open the front of his pants he’s half erect already. Watching the spymaster outside of your hiding place you grab the wonderful thick cock and lean closer. Flynn spreads his legs wider and nudges his hips to the edge of the chair, apparently accepting his fate. Shaw watches you intently, standing stiffly in his fancy suit, arms crossed. You see him turn his head like listening to something behind him, then he makes a small gesture with his hand that you recognize as “stand down” or “no action” in military signs. Oh, so you have more audience than just him. Well, if he keeps them in check you do not mind.

You slide your wet lips over the engorged tip of the - by now fully stiffened - Fairwind favorite weapon and wish you could see his face, up there among the dignitaries trying to look solemn and cool while king Anduin Wrynn starts his speech. A small pang about where your conscience resides makes you hesitate, but it’s soon flooded and gone with the arousal the situation is causing in you. You cannot leave the poor man like this, can you? He’d be unable to leave the table with his honor intact!

Feeling charitable enough you slowly swallow his length in your mouth, tongue sliding on its underside, letting it poke your throat, then sliding back. Oh, how you love the size of it, the weight and the width. Flynn is trembling just noticeably, the cock throbbing with every inch in or out from between your wet lips. You smile and lick the tip, glancing at Shaw.

The master assassin has a delicious bulge in his tight suit pants. You see it because you know to look for it; in the twilit night with the dark suit he’s safe from anyone else noticing. Maybe. Unless they share your penchant for ogling.

Taking Flynn in your mouth again you now concentrate on him fully, knowing Shaw will watch the show til the end. The whole situation of the ‘prank’ makes you quiver with lust. You taste the seed in your mouth. Your panties are drenched and sucking him deeper makes your quim pulsate in delightful need you are sure will be satisfied by the end of the event.

You let just a bit of Arcane trickle from the hand that’s grabbing his root. The magic makes him jerk and you hear a muffled moan disguised as a cough.

If this doesn’t stimulate Shaw to give in, you don’t know what would. You had a sort of a deal with this guy presently hilt deep in your face to get together again, all three of you.

You feel a familiar thrum go through the gorgeous length and you move closer, enclose his family jewels gently in your hand and hum until you feel the ex-outlaw plant his feet for balance. Trembling he shoots hotly in your mouth, spilling over your lips even when you swallow and lick to keep things tidy. You catch the renegade drops and sit on your haunches, panting silently, stuffing him gently back into his pants with clumsy hands though he’s still swollen. Flynn reaches his hands down, closes the laces and fumbling blindly towards you until you plant a kiss on his hand holds your chin in his palm for a moment. His thumb swipes over your swollen, wet lips.

A worgen could take you now for all you care. Your nipples are erect and you smile at it, knowing your gown will reveal everything. Faintly you hear the young king’s optimistic speech nearing the end.

 _“Are you alright, Flynn? Your face is red.”_ You hear Taelia ask in a whisper.

“Yes - _ahem_ \- yeah, I think the punch had some Freeport rum in it. Kinda - potent. _Hic.”_

 _“What are you on about? You could drink the whole of Boralus under the table.”_ That almost makes you reveal yourself by laughing out loud.

You turn your head towards Shaw, licking your lips for the residue dribbles. He has a stern look on him and he nudges his head back very slightly. You obey, slipping into Invisibility and sneaking out of there without - mostly - anyone noticing. The assassin walks behind the crowd, under an archway and to the other side of the wall that surrounds the opening. He stops when you’ve followed him there out of line of anyone’s sight - he stays in the archway eyes on the king and the Proudmoores - and casually opens the buttons of his jacket.

 _“Do not move.”_ You see his breathing is just a bit faster than his normal disciplined state. “If I didn’t know you I’d assume you were an agent of the Horde. Now stay there until I tell you otherwise.”

“You can trust your underlings to fill in for you. I know some of them - we fought together - and I know how good they are.” You lean your back on the wall accepting the probable destruction of your lovely dress if your more pressing wishes are to be fulfilled.

“I will - but first I’ll see the king leave.” Not taking his gaze off the high-ranking people in the yard he slowly pulls off his bow tie. Your quickened pulse is accompanied by a gasp - you were not sure you’d win both bets. He motions his employees to move into the yard. You see no-one but they must be there. Could this really compromise the security of the event? Playful and rebellious as you sometimes are you still have your sense of duty and responsibility.

After some minutes you hear cheering and soon after Shaw seems to relax a little. The dignitaries must have left leaving the more common folk to mingle and dance. He produces a small vial from his jacket pocket and places it on your palm.

“Drink this.”

“By the Light! Is this my punishment?”

“It’ll make you last longer than twenty seconds.” His low voice makes your core throb. You still don’t get it - you haven’t shown any signs of tiring out even if sometimes you do come very fast. Repeatedly. The spymaster takes a thorough sweeping look around the area, notices the four lone soldiers on their posts on the lower tier towards the sea. They have their backs on you. He looks into your eyes, cocks an eyebrow and vanishes into full stealth in front of you. Last thing you see is him opening his pants.

“Oh.” You pop the cork off the vial and drink the potion. In a second you feel invisibility settle over you with a tingling sensation.

Funny thing about invisibility - unless you have special skills you won’t see other people who also are invisible. So it comes as a wonderful surprise when you feel unseen hands slide on your neck and your waist, unseen lips press against yours and an unseen hardness grind against your mound through the nigh nonexistent fabric. Uttering a muffled moan you open your lips and enter your tongue in a duel that has a fixed outcome. The tickle of his moustaches and the arduous deep kiss makes your lips swell. Blindly you fumble his pants down his ass and caress the firm, round muscles pressing him tighter against you. He interrupts the kiss and you hear his voice in front of your face. Squinting you can see the ghostly outline of his upper body.

“Is this what you wanted, champion? The people will soon roam back here too. Be careful not to take or cause damage or the stealth will break. _No biting._ I will forsake our friendship forever if you do.” He’s serious even with the thick lust in his voice.

“Does climaxing count as damage?”

“It does, I’m afraid.” He must have done his research. For knowledge’s sake, of course.

“Better time them favourably, then”, you grin and grip the invisible rod that’s been poking you. You feel the warm velvet skin against your palm, the delightful twitch answering your squeeze. Then it retreats from your grasp and you whine. Your next whine is not of frustration but pleasure as you feel the already low neckline of your dress being pulled gently aside and a hungry mouth descend on your breast. At the same time your hems are being lifted and you grab them, holding them to your lap. You feel his hand touch the side of your hips, find the stringy panties. He slides his fingers over the drenched front of them and then inside, stretching the fabric down- and outwards.

“Are these a precious heirloom as well, like the dress?”

“What, no”, you laugh and it turns into a moan when you feel him rip the underwear from the center. The shreds cling to your hips like a decorative belt. You calculate this a good moment to cast the contraceptive spell on you.

A pair of Kul Tirans emerge from a further archway and walk slowly towards the two of you, drinks in hand, chatting. You jerk and try to nudge your partner in crime on the shoulder but your hand doesn’t find anything in the air in front of you.

_“Shaw.”_

You feel his hands grip the backs of your thighs and spread them. You gasp. The two women are closer now, you can make out separate words of what they’re saying. When a moustached mouth presses on your clitoris and an invisible tongue licks a broad, deep sweep between your dripping folds you know you are being paid back your earlier misdeeds. The small whine that escapes your lips alerts the ladies to look around and you almost bite your arm to silence yourself but remember at the last second that biting would cause you to appear in front of their eyes right there. You don’t hear but feel the assassin’s low chuckle on your sensitive bits. Yeah, you totally deserve this. Gritting your teeth you lean against the wall and try to relax, to just flow into the wonderful sensation of Shaw devouring you thoroughly. But there’s a certain peril in that too.

The women are walking right past you now. The spymaster lifts your right thigh over his shoulder and delves deeper into eating you, the other palm holding your left buttock. You breathe heavily through your nose, not trusting to keep your mouth open at all. The pressing knot inside you starts to unravel and expand into a bliss and _no, no, no_ you cannot yet, not now. Your cursed lover seems to know your distress and carries on nonetheless, maybe even more intensely just to make your life interesting. Your eyes follow the bypassers, waiting for them to be far enough and when you almost let yourself go master Shaw stops. You feel the lips and hands leave your skin.

“Why? Oh gods, I hate you - “

_“Sshh, they’re still close by.”_

_“Please, please don’t stop now - “_

_“I don’t have another invisibility potion for you. I’m afraid you’re allowed to come only once tonight.”_ You hear a devilish grin in his voice. _“At least in this location.”_

_“Ungghhh, fine.”_

_“I’m sure I don’t have to remind you to use your cooldown spells right after. We might pass as a drunken hallucination if someone sees us but we’re fast enough.”_

You feel your thigh being lifted on his hip, then another, and you lock your ankles behind his back and wrap your arms around his unseen shoulders for balance just in time to feel his thick cock slide effortlessly into your eagerly throbbing warmth. Keeping silent is a real challenge. When he’s hilt deep inside you, you hear more voices coming from your left.

_“Ugh, no.”_

_“I thought you particularly liked the exhibitionist aspect of this.”_ His lips brush the side of your neck, under your ear, and he thrusts, and again, and again. His size fills you completely, the root grinding against your clit and you really need to concentrate on not climaxing immediately while those two are within line of sight.

_“No... yes... But it’s... Flynn and... “_

_“I know. May I release inside you?”_

_“Gods, yes. But how - “_ His firm hand pressed over your mouth cuts your inquiry short and a jolt of submissive pleasure tingles through you.

 _“I trust he’ll cover for us.”_ And the spymaster starts a relentless pace, holding your other thigh up, pushing you against the sloping wall. You hold onto him like a drowning person and try to keep your eyes open to look at Flynn and Taelia right there ten steps away. And then Flynn’s dormant rogue abilities seem to wake up and he looks at you straight through your invisibility. He averts his gaze immediately, grins to himself and seems to conjure up an excuse to turn the dark-haired girl back towards you.

“Look, I think he might actually be interested in you… _that_ way”, you hear him say to her.

You wish you could see Shaw in your arms, driving his manhood into you with a fervor. He groans under his breath. You are so close your walls tremble and he feels it. There’s a flicker and his stealth dissipates, and you see his face right in front of you, eyes shut tight. The hand muffling you drops between your bodies and locates itself over your slick nub, being pushed against it with every remaining thrust. That tips you over and you climax simultaneously, the spymaster pumping his seed in you, you throbbing around his girth while the world around you disappears momentarily. Oh, how you've missed this.

You open your eyes, panting silently. Flynn is there, still keeping Taelia from turning around, gesturing like he were telling a story to a child.

 _“Shadowmeld,”_ Shaw whispers.

Oh, right, yes. You use your racial powers to blend into the wall. As long as you don’t move, it will hide you. Your lover vanishes like rogues often do but you still feel him inside you. Little jolts of pleasure run through you when he still moves a bit, in and out, swaying gently. Flynn seems to relax and motions his companion that maybe they should go back and get a bit more of the pink drink, it’s not so bad when you get used to it, also it’s completely free, why don’t we.

“What _is it_ with you today, Flynn? You’re sillier than usual.”

“Must be the stress relieving, luv. I haven’t been able to catch enough sleep these last few weeks.” Behind her back Captain Fairwind puts his thumb up towards you and grins widely. They walk away back to the party.

The master assassin - yeah, he totally slew you again - pulls out cautiously. You flick your wrist and an Arcane spell cleans the two of you of your fluids. The human closes his trousers and watches you, looking thoughtful - and sleepy. Adjusting your robe you try to assess the damages to the light runecloth, not too bothered about it though in your current satisfied state. You turn around and Shaw brushes your back, nodding to tell you you’re presentable.

“You’ll be the end of my career, hero.”

“You think abstinence will make you a better spy?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Well, next time _you_ choose the place. Flynn’s included.”

“Understood. After all I lost the bets.” He chuckles and offers his arm to escort you back under the party lanterns. Smiling, you take it, feeling happy and restored enough to play the well-mannered lady for the next hour or so.

 

 


End file.
